


Cede

by robokittens



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Co-commanders to Lovers, Dom/sub, First Time, Kink Discovery, M/M, Praise Kink, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 10:06:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10187192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: "Be still," Hux snaps. He looks up at Ren, and Ren has again the disquieting sensation that Hux is looking him in the eye. Hux frowns.  And Ren — Ren stills.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very, very deeply to [waffilicious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Waffilicious/pseuds/Waffilicious) for the stellar beta, and to [reserve](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve) for believing in this story when no one else (especially me!) did.

He can feel Hux's eyes on him. 

He's fidgeting, he _knows_ he's fidgeting, can't ever manage to stay still through these briefings. His fingers itch to hold his lightsaber; his very toes are longing for his boots to get moving. Even if he's only stalking down the corridor — that's preferable to this everlasting sitting.

" — intercept them," Hux is saying, his gaze still fixed on Ren's mask. Behind the mask, Ren is free to look back with impunity. Behind the mask, Ren is free to close his eyes. He lets himself lose sight of Hux, tears himself away from the neat swoop of Hux's hair, the tight collar encircling his throat. His pale, pale eyes.

The rest of Hux's words filter over him, as lost as the ones that came before. Ren doesn't, _won't_ care about the Republic's, about the _Rebellion's_ activities. He doesn't care about the ships that have come into the Order's orbit. Doesn't care about intercepted trade routes, about smugglers, about — if there was anything, anyone he needed to care about on those ships, he would _know_.

Besides, if this was really important, it would have come directly from Supreme Leader. Why Supreme Leader asks Ren to sit in on these interminable meetings is a mystery. He never learns anything; no one ever asks for his input.

They file out, Hux's captains and lieutenants. Ren stands, but as he makes a motion toward the door Hux stops him.

"Ren," Hux says quietly. 

Ren pauses in the doorway, but doesn't turn. He can, just barely, hear Hux sigh.

"Yes?" he asks, after a moment has passed with no further word from Hux. 

Hux crosses the room in a few swift, long strides, until he stands just behind Ren in the doorway. He reaches out and puts a hand on Ren's arm, gloved fingertips alighting so softly on the fabric of Ren's sleeve that he can't even feel it. He can hardly see it, with his sightlines so affected by the mask. But he can hear the slight hitch in Hux's otherwise even breathing.

"Walk with me," Hux says, and when they exit the room Hux's hand drops to his side. Ren lets Hux pass him, and as they walk down the corridors, despite Ren's longer legs, Hux stays half a step ahead. 

Strangely, Hux doesn't seem to have anything to say. He's not an overly verbose man at the best of times — his propaganda speeches aside — but Ren had assumed that Hux had requested his presence for a reason. He's about to ask if Hux had simply wished for the pleasure of his company when they reach the bridge.

The bridge isn't on high alert; it's not, after all, the _Finalizer_ 's job to intercept the Republic ships that are skirting the edges of First Order territory, dangerously close to the munitions outposts. Still, there's a heightened sense of awareness in the room, a certain tension.

Ren closes his eyes again. He takes a few deep breaths, unheeding of the menace exuded by this simple action through the vocoder. His shields are slipping. He can feel too much. He imagines a chrysalis forming around him, a shining clari-crystalline shell — not the way Snoke taught him to, but the way he was taught in another life. Slowly, the world around him goes dim. He opens his eyes.

He can feel the tips of Hux's fingers on his arm, a phantom touch. Hux is paces away, staring at him with some small measure of — concern? condescension? 

Ren's own fingers, he realizes, are resting on the hilt of his saber. He grasps it, but doesn't draw it.

"Ren," Hux says warningly. Ren looks at him. He feels, not for the first time, the unnerving sensation that Hux is able to meet his eyes.

Without moving his hand, Ren begins to move about the bridge. He's restless, edgy. He's not circling Hux, not quite, but he's drawn himself up to his full height, habitual slouch abandoned, and he knows he looks a threat. 

He comes nearer to Hux, and nearer.

"Ren," Hux says again. He squares his shoulders. He sounds, very slightly, wary. Inside the mask, Ren smiles.

The way Hux manages, without meaning to, to slip through his shields is — bothersome, troubling. But now, on the very edge of Hux's annoyance, Ren can taste his fear. It's a small, quivering thing, and it's not long before Hux is able to wrest it under control, at least enough that Ren can't feel it anymore. Where it was, an enormous strength.

"Be still," Hux snaps. He looks up at Ren, and Ren has again the disquieting sensation that Hux is looking him in the eye. Hux frowns. And Ren — Ren stills. 

He can feel the world go quiet around him. No: he can feel the world go quiet _inside_ him. He can still hear the sounds of the bridge, the brisk stomp of passing 'troopers, can still see the whirl of space through the transparisteel. But it's dimmed, hushed, as if someone had thrown a veil over him. Not the shield he'd built himself before — this feels different, feels external. He feels like a pet pylat-bird, song gone quiet in its cage for the night.

He should be feeling rage, he's sure of it.

"Ren?" Hux says. He's quiet, cautious, and Ren isn't sure what to make of that either. Ren gets a sense of Hux peering curiously up into his face — which isn't happening, of course. Hux is standing a perfectly respectable distance away, with the merest hint of a frown curling on his lips. But he _feels_ close, feels so very near. And Ren feels … not rage.

Warmth.

He thinks, distantly, that he should reply to Hux. That he should give answer of some sort, at least nod. But then he thinks, _still_. And he stills.

Hux approaches him with some matter of trepidation. Ren can feel an undercurrent of — it's not fear, but a sort of _whatishedoingwhatisheupto_. Even in this dizzy, veiled state, he can still feel what Hux is feeling. More strongly, perhaps, than usual; he feels … attuned.

"Stop this," Hux hisses, when he's close enough that Ren can hear his whisper. "You're being ridiculous."

 _Stop this_ , Ren thinks, and he pulls himself straight again. "Stop what," he says, a touch haughtily. The distortion of his own voice brings him back to himself. He whirls around and, without further discussion, stalks off the bridge.

 

 

Ren doesn't use his comm often. Slowly, he picks out a message to Hux: _what did you do?_

Hux's reply is almost immediate. _Discouraged your histrionics._

Ren frowns. That's not … that's not what had happened. Hux "discouraged" him all the time; this had been something else. 

_can we talk?_ he sends.

A minute later, Hux replies, _My shift ends at 0100. I can be at your quarters at 0115. Be there._

Ren checks the time on his comm; 2330. Not too terribly long, which is good; the sooner he gets Hux out of his head, the better.

He stares at his mask: does he wear it? Has Hux seen him without it? Surely he has — surely he can't imagine Ren wears it even in the privacy of his own quarters. Ren runs his fingertips softly over the grooves of its forehead, and leaves it on its shelf.

Slowly, he disrobes. He hangs his cloak with care; his tunic, his undershirt, his leggings all go in a pile for his service droid to deal with later. He should probably, he reflects, have them dealt with before Hux arrives, but he doesn't suppose Hux will make it as far as the bedroom. 

He slips into a pair of loose sleep pants and a clean undershirt, both black — again, Hux can't possibly expect anything else of him in his own quarters in the middle of the ship's night — and pads softly back into his sitting room. He checks his comm again: nothing new from Hux. It's 2347. He better find something to occupy himself.

He settles into a chair and closes his eyes. He should check in with his Knights; they've been out of contact all day. 

He sends out a mental pulse, the Force equivalent of a hello, and receives a variety of responses almost immediately. Three are sleeping; two dueling; one watching some sort of dramatic holo-series. Ren's lips quirk into a smile at that last: so many on the _Finalizer_ quiver at the very mention of the Knights of Ren, but no, they too are just people. Unlike any other, to be sure — but people, beneath it all.

And Ren, too. Just a person, and an impatient one at that. He checks his comm again. 2358. No messages. Maybe he'll take a nap.

 

 

His chrono beeps at 0100 hours, and Ren pulls himself slowly from his bed. He hadn't gone to sleep properly; he'd left the lights at 30%, and curled up atop the covers rather than beneath them. But for how short the nap was, it's left him feeling groggy, and he's sure his hair is in some sort of disarray.

A quick trip to the 'fresher confirms this, and he's still running his fingers through his tangled locks when the door to his quarters chimes.

"General Hux for you, sir," his service droid intones, and Ren pats it absently on its shiny silver head as he passes it on the way to the door. He eyes his helmet once more. He disregards it, raises the lights with a murmur, presses the button to open the door.

It slides open with a pneumatic _whoosh_ , and beyond it, Hux.

He's pressed and proper — befitting him, always, but especially as he's just gotten off shift. Ren has never seen Hux anything other than perfectly ordered, whatever the time of day, even when he's coming off a twelve-hour command. Perhaps, Ren reflects, he should have considered this before meeting him in his pajamas.

Hux's eyes widen almost imperceptibly as he takes in Ren's form, and Ren barely resists the urge to run his hand through his hair again.

"Come in," he says finally, and steps aside to allow Hux access.

They regard each other in silence. Hux's gaze is impassive, but he rakes his eyes up and down Ren more than once. Ren's hands tighten into fists at his sides.

"You're looking well," Hux says. His face is even, but his _tone_ is smirking.

"Thank you," Ren says, fighting to keep his voice cordial. He gestures to the low chaise, murmurs, "please."

Hux sits. It's a decadent piece of furniture, and his face registers surprise at how plush it is amongst the otherwise austere air of Ren's quarters. Ren pulls up a chair, dark and stiff and utilitarian, and sits down facing Hux.

"So," he says, after a moment of silence.

"So," Hux echoes. There's no trace of mockery now. His eyes are fixed at a point just past Ren's face, as if to keep himself from staring. Again, Ren has to resist the urge to fix his hair.

Finally, Ren speaks. "What … on the bridge. What did you do to me?"

"What did _I_ do? Nothing to send you catatonic, certainly. Was that some sort of Force-coma?"

Ren frowns. "It wasn't the Force. It was …" His frown deepens as he tries to think, tries to sort out that period of calm from the chaos of his thoughts. His words, when he speaks, are halting. "It felt … right. Listening to you."

Hux raises an eyebrow. "Would that that were the case more often."

"I'm serious," Ren says. "You were so … the way you said it. It made me go. Calm, inside. It felt …" He pauses, turning the words over in his head. "Good."

Hux's eyebrow inches even higher. He looks, now, entirely incredulous. "Ren," he says, "did you bring me here to … proposition me?"

Ren stands up quickly, puts the chair between himself and Hux. "You think very highly of yourself, General Hux," he says coldly.

Hux makes a disbelieving sound, a loud _tch_. "Then why _did_ you bring me here?"

His words are edged in irritation, but there's something … something else to it. It's akin, somehow, to the warm feeling Ren had felt earlier, but essentially different. Ren _pushes_ , just slightly, at the outskirts of Hux's mind. 

Hux's lips tighten to a thin line, as if he can feel Ren's intrusion. Their eyes meet, finally, for real, and Ren is able to identify what flares in Hux's eyes: it's _lust_.

"No," Ren says. He's lost his composure. He takes a step back. It's not an answer to Hux's question, not really. He does scrub a hand through his hair then, and watches as Hux's eyes track the movement of his fingers. "I didn't … I just wanted to know what you did. Before. I never … I never."

Hux stands up. Ren takes another step back.

"Ren," Hux says, the slightest lilt to his voice. "Ren, be _calm_."

And Ren stills.

He can feel it happen this time, the veil that draws down over his eyes, his ears, whatever it is in him that touches the Force. He knows what he's looking for this time, and he looks at Hux until his eyes slip shut.

"That's good," Hux whispers. "That's very good." He's moved closer, come around to the other side of Ren. Ren can feel his breath on the back of his neck, little eddies through the waves of Ren's hair.

Slowly, Ren relaxes.

"How are you feeling?" Hux is quiet, hardly more than a whisper, for all that he's speaking directly into Ren's ear. "It's all right. You can respond."

It takes Ren a moment to gather his thoughts. "Good," he says. He can feel where Hux is pressed up against him, a bright brand across his shoulders, cutting through the dim.

It's like Hux is the only thing he can feel. Crowded up against his back, and in his mind: the lust from a moment ago, and a sense of pride, and above all a powerful curiosity.

"That's good," Hux says, and rests his fingers on Ren's forearm. His fingers tighten. Ren can feel the press of the leather against his skin. 

Hux guides him, gloves soft on Ren's arm, over to the chaise. He sits Ren down, stands over him, so close that Ren's knees are pressed up against him.

"Ren," he says quietly. Ren's eyes open. He lifts his head until his eyes meet Hux's, and again, Hux whispers, "good."

He reaches out and lightly drags the backs of his fingers along Ren's cheekbone before taking a step backward. "Come back," Hux says — it's not a whisper anymore, not quite his commander voice, somewhere between. Steely, but somehow inviting. Ren's eyes blink open.

"How do you feel?" Hux asks.

"What have you _done_?" Ren asks again. He sounds pathetic, pleading, he knows it.

"I've put you away," Hux says, "and then I've brought you out again." His words are matter-of-fact, his tone calm, but there's an undercurrent to it that Ren can just barely read. Lust, again. And excitement of a different sort, an intrigue as to the whole proceedings.

"Put me away," Ren repeats. He rolls the words around his tongue, around his brain. What does it mean, to be put away, to have _Hux_ put him away?

Hux keeps looking at him, keeps looking at his _lips_. Hux wants to kiss him — more to the point, wants to feed his dick past Ren's lips, and into his open, waiting throat. Hux wants to fuck his face until Ren chokes on it. Hux's desires are _distracting_.

"Stop that," Ren says softly; he raises his eyes briefly to meet Hux's, and finds them cold.

"Stop what," Hux says. He's brusque, irritated almost. His response is more formality than question. 

Ren hesitates — to answer, he'd have to admit to an intrusion into Hux's mind, something he's loath to do. He's barely done more than brush the surface, looked at nothing he wasn't all but invited to look at it, but he knows Hux would find it _invasive_.

"Looking at me like that," he says finally.

It's a moment, in turn, before Hux replies. "Stop behaving so oddly, then," he says.

Ren's eyes narrow. "You're here," he says, "in my quarters, at 0100 hours. _Putting me away_. What about this ..." He trails off.

"It's odd," Hux allows.

Ren nods.

"Have you —" He pauses, sucks in a breath. Asks, finally. "Seen me, before?"

Hux's eyes stay cold, but Ren can feel his thoughts racing. Images tumble over themselves in the fore of Hux's mind: Ren shirtless, head bowed; the long expanse of Ren's bare, scarred back; Ren's face upturned in supplication, eyes shut and mouth open. Images of things Hux has never seen, of things Ren has never imagined.The details are wrong, the moles splayed out across Ren's shoulders in fantasy constellations, but the _ideas_ — 

"My face," Ren clarifies. "You seem very distracted by it."

The images shiver, shudder, then grow more vibrant. Ren almost laughs out loud. Hux needs training, clearly — he's like a child, a _padawan_ , trying to conceal his thoughts and failing. Failing _horribly_. 

"Why did you bring me here?" Hux asks again. His fingertips reach out for Ren's face and make hesitant purchase on his cheekbone. Ren breathes deeply, in and out, feeling the pressure there.

"I wanted to _know_ ," he says finally. "But you don't know either, do you?"

Hux hesitates. "I should go," he says.

"Yes," Ren says. Hux's fingers fall from his face when he stands, but he can feel their echoes. He reaches up as if to put his own hand on Hux's face but it stops short, freezes in the air between them.

"Yes," Ren says again. "I suspect you should."

 

 

Hux is leaning over Unamo's shoulder the next time Ren is on the bridge, peering into a holoscreen. She's stiff beneath him, uncomfortable even as she tries to pretend otherwise. 

Ren can imagine it, Hux's presence overwhelming next to him, over him. For such a slim man he cuts a large figure — and he _is_ small; it's obvious despite his height, obvious even despite the padding of his uniform. It's obvious in the way he thinks of Ren as somehow large and hulking, a coiled mass waiting to spring even when he pictures Ren cowed before him. 

Not cowed. _Subservient_.

"General Hux," Ren growls, and his voice is harsh through his vocoder. 

Hux pulls himself to attention. "Lord Ren."

Ren reaches out, draws his mental fingers against the very surface of Unamo's mind. He reads the ship's log there, the coordinates, the astrography, all as clearly as if he'd been reading off her holoscreen.

"Have you found the rebels' ships yet?"

Hux's eyes narrow. 

"Finding their ships is not the problem. What their ships have found is the issue." _As you'd know if you paid attention in briefings_ , Hux thinks, loud enough that Ren doesn't have to try to read him. 

Ren's shoulders move in a gesture that's almost a shrug. It's just impolite enough to set Hux glaring at him.

"Ren," Hux says, warningly.

Ren nods. "What we discussed the other night —" He barely spares a glance at Umano, but he doesn't need to; she's smart enough to know when things are above her pay grade and is hard at work, screens spread in a green glow around her. "Tonight," he says, surprising himself.

"Tonight," Hux echoes.

 

 

The door closes behind Hux. Ren's lights are low; he's sitting on the chaise with his bare face in his hands. He's still fully dressed aside from his helmet, which sits on the chaise beside him.

The words fall out before Ren is even ready to process them, much less speak them: "I brought you here to proposition you."

Ren doesn't have to look up to hear the hitch in Hux's breath, to smell his arousal, to see his smile.

"How so?" Hux asks. His words are careful, measured. They belie the excitement Ren can taste rolling off him in waves.

Ren looks up, just enough to peer at Hux through the tips of his fingers. 

Hux isn't smiling. He's staring at Ren like Ren is a mildly interesting piece of data, a blueprint for something necessary but unexciting. He has one eyebrow raised, just slightly. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides; his heart is beating so, so fast.

"There are … things … you want to do to me," Ren says, haltingly. "And I am … intrigued."

The word hangs in the air for a moment before Hux echoes it. "Intrigued," he says, rolling the word on his tongue.

"I've never …" Ren hesitates. Hux's eyebrow raises further. "What you did. What you can do to me — I —"

"Shh," Hux whispers, and Ren shuts his mouth. He shuts his eyes. He can feel the dip of the chaise as Hux sits carefully next to him. 

"I'm going to try something," Hux says. "Ren. Look at me."

Ren's eyes open. He tilts his head, seeking eye contact; Hux fixes him with a steady gaze. One gloved hand comes up to cup Ren's chin. Hux leans up, leans in. His lips graze across Ren's, butterfly-light.

"Oh," Ren breathes, and can feel his breath hot where it reflects off Hux's skin.

"Oh," Hux echoes, mocking, but he's close enough that Ren can feel his smile. Ren brushes their lips together again. Hux's pale eyes fall shut, his golden lashes fanned out.

"Look at me," Ren murmurs, but his own eyes shut as he brings their lips together again. Hux's lips part this time, just slightly, and Ren's lower lip fits neatly between them.

It's been a long time since Hux kissed anyone, Ren can feel it — and that's what this is, what they're doing; they're _kissing_. 

Hux pulls away. Slowly, Ren's eyes open. Hux is too close to see properly, a dizzy blur of a man, and Ren wants to kiss him again.

"I should go," Hux says. His hand drops from Ren's face; otherwise, he doesn't move. Ren reaches out and puts a hand on his knee. Hux is aroused, Ren can tell; it has been so, so long since Hux has kissed anyone, and he's overwhelmed, and he wants Ren on his knees. Ren moves his hand, and Hux inhales; he slides off the chaise to the floor, and Hux exhales sharply.

"Please," Ren says. He sits back on his heels and bows his head, shoulders taut, eyes shut, his hair falling forward into his face. He folds his hands in his lap. Hux's breathing grows harsher.

"I want," Ren begins, and falters. Hux reaches out and takes Ren's chin in his hand again; the leather is soft against Ren's face, and Ren turns into it. Hux's thumb strokes across his cheekbone.

"What do you want," Hux murmurs. "Tell me."

Ren takes a deep breath. He doesn't — doesn't know. Hux's mind is blank of his earlier desires, but Ren can't stop thinking about them. About Hux's dick down his throat, about the slow glide of it as Hux pushes inside him. About Hux's lips soft against his own.

"I want you to put me away," he says.

Hux lets out a jagged sigh. "Oh, Ren," he says, and Ren can't quite put a name to his tone.

"Why don't you go to bed," Hux says. It's phrased like a suggestion, but there's a durasteel edge to it. His hand is still on Ren's face; he's not letting go. "Go to sleep."

 _Come with me_ , Ren thinks, but he doesn't say it.

"Sleep," Hux says again. "For me." His hand drops, finally, from Ren's chin; Ren's eyes open and fix on Hux's.

"Okay," he says quietly, and something that might be a smile flickers across Hux's face.

" _Good_ ," Hux says, and Ren feels warm.

 

 

His mask feels heavy on his head. It does, some days; there are days it feels a freedom, and days it feels a burden. Today it is heavy.

The light of Supreme Leader's hologram washes over Ren, leaving him somehow cold. He knows there's no temperature to it, no heat nor chill, but he always feels cold in Supreme Leader's presence. The chamber is too stark, too bare, too big. It makes Ren feel small, and alone.

"You are distracted," Supreme Leader says. His eyes narrow in suspicion, and Ren can feel that cold focus burrow itself into his head. He draws a chrysalis around himself, stops, lets it dissipate. He has nothing to hide here.

His mind, unavoidably, pulls up the feel of Hux's lips against his, and Ren flushes as he realizes Supreme Leader is sensing this.

"You have your mission," Supreme Leader is saying. "You are not to be distracted from it."

"No!" Ren says. He raises his head toward the hologram. "Hux is — helping me. I need the calm, Supreme Leader, if I am to focus on achieving our goals. Anger leads to the Dark Side, but it … it consumes me; I cannot. I cannot work. When there is nothing but rage."

Supreme Leader's head tilts, considering; his eyes bore into Ren's.

"See that _he_ does not consume you," he says.

"I think only of the good of the Order," Ren says quickly. He can hear his words ring true in the hollows of the chamber.

Supreme Leader nods. "Good," he says, and dissolves into the dark.

Ren lets out a shaky breath and, shivering, pulls his cloak tight around himself.

 

 

Hux sits on Ren's chaise. His legs are crossed, one ankle, delicate even in its boot, folded over his knee. On his lap rests a datapad.

Ren sits at his feet. His legs are folded under himself; his eyes are closed; he lists softly to one side, almost but not quite leaning against Hux's leg. 

Slowly, so slowly, one of Hux's hands drifts down to rest in Ren's hair. Ren inhales sharply, and Hux pulls his hand back just as fast, as if he'd been scalded. Ren opens his eyes, tilts his chin up. Hux is looking down at him.

There's an apology dancing on the tip of Hux's tongue, but Ren knows he's too proud to ever say it. Still. It's there.

Ren shakes his head. "You can … touch me," he says. His voice is hoarse, like he hasn't spoken in quite some time. It hasn't been that long. He's only been here, at Hux's feet, for a little over an hour. He's spent more time in less comfortable positions, in less pleasant situations.

There's only silence, and then Hux, very quietly, says, "all right." His hand comes to rest on Ren's hair again.

Ren can feel Hux's desires: to twist Ren's hair around his fists and pull; to bare Ren's throat; to pull him in deeper on Hux's dick. But he just strokes softly across Ren's hair, once, twice, then returns his hand to his datapad. 

Hux has been replying to correspondences since he got to Ren's room. He lets out a harsh sigh, occasionally, but otherwise he's been silent.

"Sit," he'd said, and gestured to the floor; Ren had sat, and he's remained.

He doesn't understand why Hux isn't acting on his fantasies — Ren is almost certain he thinks that Ren doesn't know about them. He also thinks that Ren is some sort of blushing virgin, which isn't far from the truth. He isn't _blushing_ , anyway.

He lets himself lean against Hux, finally. Hux lets out a breath, a startled sound; Ren can feel his leg tense and then relax again where Ren rests against it.

"Good," Hux says, and runs his hand across Ren's hair again. Ren closes his eyes, and Hux murmurs, "good."

He should talk to Hux, at some point. They should talk, when the world isn't fuzzy and golden around Ren, when he can feel something more than _warm_ and _pleased_ and the desire to be good for Hux.

 

 

Hux taps at his datapad, and a starmap projects into the air above him. It zooms quickly in on a system Ren is fairly sure is near them — astrography has never been his forte; for all his living on the _Finalizer_ , he prefers steady ground beneath his feet. Hux pulls out a stylus and circles something on his datapad; in the air above him, the circle appears around a planet.

"This," he says, "is the local branch of Aratech-Loratus. And this," he draws a wider circle around another planet in the system, "is the last known location of the Republic ships."

"Is the world inhabited?" Lieutenant Wrusson asks. He raises his hand slightly, as if to be called on, even as he speaks.

"No," Hux says, "which is why it's even more suspicious that they're there. As far as we can tell they're still in orbit; they don't seem to have landed on the planet."

Captain Phasma leans in, elbows on the conference table. 

"Are we going after them? Diplomatically," she clarifies quickly. The briefest smile plays across Hux's face. "They are in First Order space. We have the right."

"We may," Hux allows. "But we may wait for them to make their presence known. It's possible they're here to spy on us, but it's equally possible —"

Ren closes his eyes. He tries to focus on these meetings, he does, but they're so terribly boring. Diplomatic missions hold no interest for him; it's unlikely he'll be sent on one — Hux would never trust him to be _diplomatic_ , and probably not even to stand silent and menacing in the background.

Instead, he watches Hux: the intense set of his jaw, the way his eyes narrow in focus when someone asks a question or offers a suggestion. His small gesticulations, and the way, the rest of the time, his hands clench and unclench at his sides. The firm line of his mouth, and oh, how Ren wants to kiss that look off his face.

It's a temptation, to do it right now — to take off his mask, and to kiss Hux in front of everyone.

Hux's eyes flick over to him, and once again, he feels like Hux can _see_ him through the mask. That Hux, for once, is the one reading Ren's mind, that he can taste Ren's desire.

 _Be good for me_ , he can imagine Hux saying, and, _be still_. He sits quietly.

 

 

"We need to talk," Ren blurts out.

Hux raises an eyebrow. He's just gotten to Ren's quarters, and he looks stressed after another long shift — Ren can read him now, can tell what the furrow in his brow means, can tell his mood from the bags under his eyes. He has work to do, assuredly, and they've both grown used to him doing it here, in the dim of Ren's quarters, a datapad on his lap and Ren at his feet.

"Talk about what?" Hux asks. His tone is sharp, his words pointed. 

It's obvious that he doesn't want to discuss what they're doing; discomfort rolls off him in waves. 

Ren stands there, staring at him; just over Hux's shoulder is the shelf on which Ren's helmet rests, and he feels a temptation to grab it, put it on. There's a comfort in the mask, a safety, an abandonment of the self. Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, could have this conversation with Hux. Ren, in his bare feet and cotton pajama pants, may have a harder time.

"You have ... " Ren inhales deeply. He forces himself to meet Hux's eyes. "Desires. Regarding me."

There's the barest quirk to Hux's lips. "Have you been reading my mind, Ren?"

"You _project_ ," Ren protests. "When I'm near you … when you put me away. There are other things you'd like to … like to do. To me."

Hux reaches out; his gloved fingertips trail delicately over Ren's cheekbone. "There are many things I'd like to do to you." His words have softened; they're almost fond. There's a light in his eyes.

Ren's voice drops to a whisper. "Yet you don't."

Hux takes a step closer, then another, then they're so close it seems inevitable when Hux brushes his lips against Ren's. "Would you like me to?" Hux murmurs against Ren's lips.

Ren doesn't say anything, just kisses him again. He takes a half step closer, and that's all it takes for them to be flush against each other. 

Hux's lips part, and Ren mirrors him; Hux takes Ren's lower lip between his own and sucks softly on it, and Ren moans. The kiss deepens. Hux has both his hands on Ren's face, holding him in place, tilting his head. His tongue brushes softly against Ren's and Ren moans again, a low sound deep in his throat.

Ren breaks them apart, gasping. He tilts his forehead against Hux's. His eyes flutter open. "Please," he says, voice broken. Hux's thumbs stroke across his cheeks.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Hux says, voice low, and Ren thinks to nod, realizes he can't with Hux holding his face just so.

"Yes," he whispers, and closes his own eyes. Hux releases him with another long caress, the drag of his gloves against Ren's face.

" _Down_ ," Hux says, and Ren folds.

He settles on his heels and turns his face up toward Hux. Hux's hands rest on his belt.

"Are you sure?" Hux asks.

Ren nods. He doesn't look away from Hux's face, but he can hear the sound of Hux's belt unfastening. He can hear the zip of his trousers.

"So good," Hux murmurs. "So pretty. Look at you."

Ren can feel the color rising in his cheeks, but he doesn't look away.

"Your lips," Hux continues. "By the stars, they were made for this. _You_ were made for this. Shh, shh," he says, though Ren hasn't said anything. "Be good for me, now."

Ren hears the shuffle of fabric and he finally breaks his gaze away from Hux's face, glancing downward. Hux has pushed down his pants and his underwear and has one hand wrapped around his dick, stroking it gently.

Ren takes a deep breath in through his nose, a long, shuddering exhale out through his mouth. He's never seen — never been this close to — 

" _Please_ ," he says, and his eyes fall shut.

Hux takes a step forward, and there's a touch on Ren's lips; he flinches, but it's just Hux's fingertips. They trace over Ren's lips, and slowly, Ren relaxes into the touch. His mouth falls open, just slightly.

"Be good for me," Hux says again, and there's a different pressure on Ren's lips. The head of Hux's cock is softer than the gloves as it drags across Ren's lips. 

Instinctively, Ren's lips part. 

Slowly, Hux pushes inside. "Mind your teeth," he says softly, and, "there's a good boy."

Ren doesn't move. He holds his jaw wide, he minds his teeth, and he lets Hux move against him, pushing in and pulling out. His hands curl into fists on his knees, then relax. He almost gags, and Hux pulls out with a reassuring susurrus. He runs a hand through Ren's hair, and pushes in again.

There's a tightness in his jaw before long, a soreness, but there's Hux's dick against the flat of his tongue and there's Hux's hand on his cheek, rubbing against the bulge of his own hardness, and Ren feels loose and soft and warm.

Hux keeps whispering things, gentle words of praise that wash right over Ren. "Good," he says, and, "yes," and soft breathy moans.

Hux's breathing grows harsher, faster, and Ren's eyes open. He looks up at Hux's face, and it's blurry; he realizes his eyes have filled with tears. 

_Hux_ , he thinks, he can't say.

He blinks, blinks again, just enough to clear his eyes. Hux pushes in again, deeper, still so slowly. It must be painful for him, to move so slow, such subtle movements; Ren feels gratitude welling up inside him, that Hux would do this _for him_. Hux's hand, where it holds the base of his dick, bumps up against Ren's lips.

 _Thank you_ , he thinks, tries to send to Hux, but he's not sure he's done it. He can't think straight, can barely think at all beyond the dick in his mouth, the burn of his jaw. The long line of Hux's body over him, and the way Hux stares down. Their eyes meet, and the contact holds.

"Oh," Hux says, and "Ren." He sounds desperate. "I'm going to —" He pulls away, takes a step back. He closes his eyes, and Ren's gaze drops down to his cock again. It's hard, flushed almost purple, slick and shiny with Ren's spit. Ren closes his mouth, opens it, works his jaw. He feels a loss, aching.

"You're so good," Hux whispers. He jacks himself slowly and says, voice still low, "can I come in your mouth?"

Ren nods, trembling. He doesn't trust his voice.

"Oh, stars above," Hux says, almost to himself, and he moves close again. Ren opens his mouth and Hux thrusts back in in one sudden movement. Ren almost gags; he swallows around it, and Hux lets out a long, low moan. Ren can feel Hux spill into his mouth, hot and wet, can taste the tang of it on the back of his tongue. His throat works around it, swallowing; he can feel the movements of his body like they're new to him, strange.

"Ren," Hux is murmuring, "Ren, Ren," and his fingers tangle in Ren's hair, not pulling, just holding him in place.

Ren gazes up at him. Hux lets go of Ren long enough to pull out, to tuck his softening dick back into his pants as if in slow motion, and fastens himself back up. Ren leans in and rests his cheek against Hux's thigh, and Hux's fingers find purchase in his hair again.

"Thank you," Ren says, and his voice is hoarse, quieter than he means. He clears his throat, coughs once, tries again. "Thank you."

Hux laughs shortly, a disbelieving sound. His hand strokes through Ren's hair. "You were so good for me," he says. "So good."

Ren closes his eyes, and smiles.

 

 

" _Ren_!"

His name rings down the corridor, and Ren stomps down the hall away from it. He can feel the very air sizzle at his side, compliments of his bared lightsaber, and the whole world feels electric.

Even now, even angry, he doesn't want to cross Hux. Best to stay away — sequester himself in his own quarters, damage his own belongings rather than any public part of the ship. Hux will still have to sign off on the repairs, but —

" _Ren_!"

Ren stops, whirls around, brings up his saber in a defensive position. Behind the mask, he bares his teeth.

He can see Hux eyeing his lightsaber, can see that the blade is the only thing keeping Hux from getting right up in his face. Even still, Hux isn't _far_ — and he steps closer.

He says Ren's name again, softer, slowly. "Ren," he says, "behave yourself."

"General," Ren snaps. "Don't you have a mission to lead?"

"You are a part of this mission, _Lord_ Ren." Hux spits out the honorific. "I want you on board that ship. You were there for the briefing; you know we need you."

"You don't _need me_." Ren's hand tightens on the hilt of his lightsaber. The blade glows brighter, sparks flying. Hux, almost imperceptibly, flinches.

"There will be a Knight of Ren on this shuttle," Hux says. "If not you —"

"Take Ridu," Ren says quickly. "She's far better at diplomacy than I."

Hux raises an eyebrow. It could be several things: Hux has always doubted the _personhood_ of the Knights, or believes it as inconsequential as that of his stormtroopers, and naming them individually never fails to elicit a reaction from him; it could be evidence of Ren thinking tactically. It could be Ren's admission of fault.

"None of you are diplomatic creatures," Hux says. 

"We are warriors," Ren agrees. His saber sparks in his hand. He watches Hux watch it, watches his pale eyes glow red with reflected light. Hux looks beautiful like this, washed out in the glow of the blade, incandescent with anger. Hux is a warrior too, whatever he may say.

He can picture the meeting, Hux at the head of a long table, Ridu behind him radiating menace. Or, no — Hux in the belly of a ship, isolated and yet somehow safe, surrounded by tools and mismatched parts. And the Rebellion's ragtag collection of pilots gathered around — listening to Hux, surely, listening to his calm and measured speech.

Ren wonders, not for the first time, why Hux is going on this mission. Surely there's someone else they could send — someone less imposing, to be sure, but also someone less _important_. What have these rebels found, that General Hux himself is going to talk them out of reporting it?

"If you are to remain here," Hux says quietly, "you are to behave yourself."

It occurs to Ren suddenly that Hux wants to keep him near.

Ren nods deeply. "I will not disappoint you." 

"See that you don't." Hux takes a step back, then another. The glow of Ren's blade vanishes from his eyes. He whirls around, greatcoat flaring behind him as he walks away.

Ren's head remains bowed until he can no longer hear Hux's footsteps echo down the corridor. He straightens up, levels a glare at a passing stormtrooper so vicious it's obvious even through his helmet; the 'trooper scurries down the hall at an unprecedented pace.

He disengages his blade. Slowly, he heads back toward his quarters. Hux's transport will leave soon, and Ren will be alone.

 

 

The _Finalizer_ is cold. Ren hates the cold, has always hated it from childhood — he keeps himself robed and cowled, keeps his rooms warm. Even his sleep clothes are made of warmer stuff.

It's been thirty ship's hours, and Ren can't shake the cold.

Hux hasn't checked in. His ship — Ren has checked, and checked again — is still in orbit around the same planet; the Rebellion ships are, as well. The meeting is scheduled to take place on one of those rebel ships. Those ships are in First Order territory; the Order has every right — Hux has every right — 

Ren's saber slashes. The battle simulator droid parries. There's no simulation running; the droid is a bare automaton, clothed as nothing, just a collection of limbs. It's not humanoid, not shaped like anything in particular, and that makes it hard to get a hit on; still, Ren hacks at it until it's a smoldering pile of metal on the floor of the simulation room.

Another droid whirrs to life, and Ren hacks at that one, too.

Somewhere, he can feel Hux's disappointment in him: destruction of First Order property. Letting his emotions get the best of him. Somewhere, he knows, Hux isn't thinking about him at all. 

_Be calm_ , he tells himself, and misses Hux's warmth. His blade twitches in his hand, and the droid falls to his feet.

 

 

Ren is in the 'fresher when Hux returns. He can feel it, sense it, a blinding burst of energy, a disturbance in the Force. A thousand stormtroopers neatening their posture at once. Hux is furious, transcendent. The entire _Finalizer_ shudders when his shuttle alights. 

The vibrations of the sonic shower roll over Ren in harsher and harsher waves, long past the time there is any dirt left to drive from his skin, turning him pink and raw. There is nothing enjoyable about a sonic shower; it's perfunctory, efficient. There is no reason for Ren to remain under its simulated spray. But Ren stays, shivers under its ministrations, lets the ship slowly settle back down around him. 

He can't feel Hux move about the ship. He wishes it were that easy, wishes he could feel every footfall like a breath. He has no idea where Hux goes first: to some debriefing room, to his own quarters, to strike down some simulation droids of his own. 

He doesn't come to Ren.

The sonic pulses around him. Ren closes his eyes.

It's not much longer until he goes from feeling clean to feeling sore. He switches off the shower, and the air goes still around him; it's such an abrupt shift that he shivers. The air is warmer without the sonic running, and he can feel the warmth coming back to his skin. He steps out, wraps a robe around himself, curls up in bed. Waits.

Hux doesn't come. Ren sleeps, fitfully. He doesn't know what he was expecting.

 

 

"Hux," Ren says, urgent, voice pitched low and even by the vocoder.

Hux looks up briefly from his datapad. It illuminates his face, the brightest thing in the darkened debriefing room. 

"Ren," Hux replies, the slightest nod of his head. "Take a seat. The meeting is about to begin."

Ridu leans against the wall behind the head of the table, a blacker figure against the black of the wall. She nods to Ren, once; he nods back, and takes a seat.

The other officers filter in, taking seats around the table. Behind his mask, Ren keeps his eyes closed; he doesn't know who's here today and he doesn't care. He's greeted the only two people that matter; the rest are pleasantries, and no one expects those from him.

Hux clears his throat, and everyone else falls silent. He stands, and the room thrums with attention. His words are dull, if Ren is to be honest: Rebellion fleets, munitions outposts, nothing Ren hasn't heard before. Hux is careful to keep his tone modulated, to keep his lists of facts from veering into storytelling; every officer in this room — Ren certainly included — is dying to know what happened when Hux was aboard that ship, and Hux has no intention of telling them.

Ridu could have shown him the entire mission as it went, broadcast it straight to his brain via the Force. But Ren had closed his mind to her, keeps it closed now that she's back. He wants … he wants to hear the mission updates from Hux. Wants to hear _anything_ fall from Hux's lips. The sound of his name issuing from between those lips would feel as soft, as personal, as a kiss would.

So he listens, listens attentively as Hux lists off his facts and figures, opens his mind to Ridu just enough that he can feel the spike in her heart rate, her mental scoff, when Hux deviates from the truth. She sends out a Force-pulse, a welcome, and he latches onto it gratefully. 

It's not words he gets from Ridu, not exactly, but he gets the gist: I'll let you hear it from him, she thinks, and there's a sort of fond, knowing amusement to her thoughts that's enough to make him blush behind the mask.

That his Knights should know of his … his _association_ with Hux is to be expected. Ridu knows about Ren as Ren knows about Ridu, but that Ridu should think about it, should form _opinions_ …

Should _approve_. Because Ridu approves, it seems; whatever she's gleaned from Hux's mind (or his actions or, Ren would hardly dare consider, his words) has lead her to believe that he means only well for Ren.

Ren sucks in a deep breath. It's a louder sound than he means it to be, through the mask. Several officers tense, looking at him, but when he makes no further sound nor movement they relax. Hux, of course, ignores it entirely.

"That concludes my findings," he says, and sets his datapad on the table. There's a pregnant pause where, for just a moment, Ren expects Hux to ask if the room has any input. But Hux says nothing except a short, "dismissed."

As everyone files out, Ren lingers. Ridu reaches out with the Force and then with her fingers to touch Ren as she passes, her hand trailing across his shoulders. He nods, and behind her mask he can feel her smile.

And then Hux and Ren are alone in the dim of the conference room.

"Did you have something to add, Ren?" Hux says cooly, not looking up from his datapad.

 _You were gone_ , Ren thinks, and _I missed you_ , and _I need you to put me away_ , but Hux is not open to the Force and he can't hear what Ren doesn't say.

"No," Ren says. He stands, and makes to leave. 

Hux looks up, finally. "Your quarters," he says. "In one hour."

Ren stalls in the doorway. 

"Of course," he says, and walks out.

 

 

Ren ignores the time, or tries to. He checks his chrono, then again, then puts it away. He showers mechanically; he braids his hair, frowns at himself in the mirror, takes it down again. He picks through his closet, rifles through black after black item in his meager wardrobe, wondering what he should wear. What Hux would like to see him in.

When the door to his quarters chimes, Ren opens it with a wave of his hand. His hair hangs loose around his face, and he's wearing a soft cotton undershirt and pants, his feet bare, much like the first time Hux … saw him.

" _Ren_ ," Hux says urgently as the door shuts behind him. He sounds almost angry, but there's no anger in the way he pulls Ren to him, in the way he crushes their mouths together. They kiss for a long, languid minute, tongues brushing against each other as their lips part just enough to breathe before coming together again. Hux pulls back first, breathing harder than warranted, but only far enough to rest his forehead against Ren's.

Hux missed him. Ren can't believe it, but it's true: Hux missed him.

"Sit down," Hux says, and Ren takes a reluctant step back. He walks backward toward the chaise so he never has to take his eyes off Hux, sits down heavily. Hux follows him, pushes him back to lie down. Climbs on top of him, knees on either side of Ren's torso. Ren looks up at Hux as he slowly peels off his gloves and drops them to the floor. He leans in, arms braced above Ren's head.

"Ren," Hux says, and shifts his weight so that he can lift a hand to draw it down Ren's cheek. "Where are you?"

Ren's eyes flutter shut. "Right here," he says, but he can hear his voice get far away.

"That's good," Hux says, and Ren can hear the durasteel in it. "You're right where I want you."

Ren thrills to it, the knowledge that he's pleasing Hux, but it's a distant joy. He feels himself sinking further and further until there's only pleasure, and the sense of Hux atop him.

Hux's hand drifts down Ren's body until it comes to rest on his hip. "Ren," he says, and drags his hand to cup Ren's dick through the thin fabric of his pants. "Has anyone ever touched you here?"

Ren only hesitates a moment before he shakes his head. _Ren_ , Hux had said, and no one has ever touched Kylo Ren there. Before — But it doesn't matter, before is nothing, all that matters is Hux's deft fingers undoing the drawstring of Ren's pants and slipping inside, Hux's hand wrapping around Ren's cock and drawing it out. 

Hux makes a pleased sound as Ren begins to harden in his hand. "Look at you," he says softly. "Beautiful."

His hand moves on Ren's dick as it begins to fill, stroking softly up and down the length.

Hux hums, nonsense words that wash over Ren as a wave of approval. His fingers are so soft against Ren's skin. Ren's eyes squeeze tight as something builds in him, something warm and overwhelming, like a fist squeezed tight around his heart.

 _Hux_ , he thinks, tries to gasp out, can't quite seem to vocalize.

"Ren," Hux says, as if he'd heard him, and maybe he had, maybe Ren managed to say it after all. But either way his name is soft and lovely coming from Hux's lips, and then those lips dip down to brush across Ren's brow, against each trembling eyelid, and then finally against Ren's own lips. 

Ren opens for him eagerly. Hux takes Ren's lip between his teeth and bites down softly, and Ren lets out a loud exhale that's almost a word. Hux's fingers slide up Ren's dick again, thumb rubbing lightly under the head, and Ren _keens_ and lets go. Distantly, under the white haze of his thoughts, he can feel Hux kissing him through his orgasm, can feel Hux's hand still moving on his oversensitive cock, but most of what he feels is just dizzy satisfaction.

"Oh Ren," Hux is saying, Ren Ren _Ren_ , his name like a cherished thing.

Ren's eyes open slowly. He can see Hux above him, flushed and almost smiling.

He leans up and Hux meets him halfway, and when their lips touch Ren's eyes fall closed again. He doesn't need to see; he feels a purity inside himself he's only ever felt when touching the Force.

That means something, he knows, something momentous, but he can't think about it now. Not with the way Hux's fingers trail across the muscles of his stomach, the way Hux presses soft kisses over Ren's face. 

"Do you have a bedroom?" Hux asks softly, and Ren nods.

"Can we go there?" he asks, and Ren nods again

Hux stands up, and almost before Ren can miss him his hands wrap around Ren's, pulling him upward. Ren's eyes open as he stands, taking in the pink tint to Hux's cheeks and the black of his eyes, blown so wide there's barely a thin pale ring surrounding the pupil.

Hux leads them there, somehow knows the way, and Ren opens the door with the Force, and when they walk inside Hux makes a sound that's almost a laugh. Ren looks at him quizzically. 

"All black," Hux says. "I should have expected."

Hux pulls back the black blanket and lays Ren down on the black sheets, tugs down the black pants hanging loosely off Ren's hips. He peels off Ren's black undershirt and drops Ren's clothing onto the cold grey durasteel floors. He's still in his full uniform when he climbs onto the bed next to Ren, the fabric of his trousers brushing against Ren's bare skin.

Ren reaches up and plucks loosely at Hux's shirt, wrinkling the fabric. He gives Hux a questioning look. 

Hux shakes his head.

"Patience," he says, and Ren feels himself flush. Hux smiles at him, brief but indulgent, before he leans in to capture Ren's mouth with his own again. 

They kiss softly and then less softly, fiercely and then gently again. They kiss until the only things that Ren can feel are Hux's lips against his lips, and Hux's teeth, and Hux's fingers as they clutch at Ren's shoulders or smooth over his chest or grasp at his hips, pulling them more tightly together. He's growing hard again, he thinks, but it's distant, irrelevant.

"Where are you?" Hux asks, and Ren doesn't say anything; he just rests his forehead against Hux's. It's answer enough for Hux, who runs his fingers across Ren's head, through the hairs at the base of his neck. 

"Are you with me?" Hux asks, his fingers tightening on the back of Ren's neck. Ren nods, his head still pressed up against Hux's own.

"Are you mine?" Hux asks, and before Ren can even think he's speaking:

"Yes," he says, " _yes_."

"Good," Hux murmurs, and kisses him again, and Ren thrills to it.

His senses are — dulled, are so finely attuned to Hux that he can't feel, can't sense anything else. Everything is the scratch of Hux's clothes against Ren's bare skin, or the press of Hux's hands against his abdomen, or Hux's voice in his head pulsing _mine, mine, mine_.

"I want you," Hux says, or doesn't say, maybe just thinks and Ren reads it off him like it's been projected. And Hux means — he doesn't mean — he _has_ Ren, has him soul and has him body. But he means to … to have Ren's body.

To have him.

"Yes," Ren says, so quickly his voice doesn't have time to tremble. "Please. Do that … to me."

"Ren," Hux says, low, and kisses him again. "Are you sure?"

His words are soft against Ren's lips, but Ren can see the images that tumble through his mind: Ren on his back, legs in the air; Ren on his hands and knees; Ren pinned and trembling.

And he wants that. He wants it all.

He props himself up on an elbow just in time for Hux to push him back down onto the bed, to crawl between the sprawl of Ren's legs. Hux sits up between them, gazing down at Ren.

"Mine," he says again, wonderingly, and his hands go to his belt. 

Ren nods shakily, watching as Hux divests himself of his belt, his outer tunic, and drops them carelessly to the floor beside Ren's bed. Underneath his clothes Hux wears a black undershirt not dissimilar from one of Ren's, and beneath that his skin is milk-pale, his shoulders dusted with the faintest trace of freckles. He looks beautiful, and if Ren could speak he'd tell him so.

As it is he just stares wide-eyed as Hux unfastens his trousers. Hux hesitates, thumbs tucked into his waistband. His lips quirk just barely, as if at some secret joke, as he reaches into one side pocket and withdraws a small tube, tossing it onto the bed at Ren's head.

He turns away then and panic rises in Ren's throat. He sits up and reaches out, his fingertips brushing the small of Hux's back. Hux makes a shushing noise but doesn't turn around, and after a moment Ren realizes he's tugging off his boots.

When Hux at last turns back to him, settles himself back between Ren's spread legs, he's fully naked. There's a shine to his eyes that makes him look — feral, dangerous. Ren sucks in a deep breath, then a shallower, shakier one. Hux reaches out and cups his cheek. He opens his mouth as if to say something but leans in instead, brushing a kiss across Ren's lips. Ren whimpers.

He can't take his eyes off Hux's cock, the thatch of ginger hair at its base, the way Hux's long fingers curl around it. He's never — he's never gotten to _look_ before. Touch, taste. But not look, and Hux seems pleased enough to show off now. He strokes himself slowly, movements unhurried, the faintest smile gracing his lips.

He reaches out to touch Ren's cheek again, his neck, his chest, drags his fingertips slowly down Ren's body until they reach his cock. They skirt around the base of it, slip lower, linger in the junction of his thigh.

Ren's legs tremble as Hux reaches between them, presses the pad of one long, delicate finger to his hole.

"Shhh," Hux says. His fingers move, cupping Ren's ankles, shifting Ren until his knees are bent and his heels resting firmly on the sheets. He reaches up and grabs the tube he'd tossed to the pillows, kissing Ren's knee on the way.

Ren shivers as Hux presses one slick finger against him, pushing in softly but insistently. He can _feel_ as his body gives way for Hux, can feel the enormity of Hux's finger inside him. Another finger breaches him and Ren's eyes squeeze shut. He regulates his breathing, long deep breaths. Hux's fingers crook, and Ren sees sparks behind his eyelids, whole star systems. His hips jerk upward, driving Hux's fingers in deeper, and he moans loudly.

"Shhh," Hux says again. "Be still now."

He drags his fingers across that spot inside Ren again, and Ren bites his lip. Hux said to be quiet, and more than anything — more than he wants Hux to keep touching him — Ren wants to be _good_. 

The first touch of Hux's fingers had been more painful than anything, before it dissolved into mindless pleasure, and it had dragged him up and up and out of the spot deep inside himself where nothing mattered but Hux. He bites his lip harder, and wills himself back to that place.

Hux pulls his fingers out, and Ren breathes out the softest of sounds. Hux strokes his thigh.

"So good for me, aren't you?" Hux croons, and Ren squeezes his eyes shut tighter still. When they open again, the world's gone dim; all he can see is Hux, Hux leaning over him, Hux shining in the faint light of the bedroom. Ren nods desperately.

"All mine," Hux continues, voice pitched low. "All your lovely, ferocious self — you're mine, now. And I mean to have you."

He thrusts his fingers back in, and Ren swallows around the yelp that forms in his throat. He tilts his head back into the pillow, leaving his throat exposed.

Hux's fingers pull out again, and the bed shifts, and then there's a different pressure at Ren's entrance.

"There we go." Hux's voice is the softest murmur, the gentlest tone. His lips grace Ren's, and Ren's hands come up to clutch at his shoulders. One of Hux's hands moves to pet Ren's hair as he pushes slowly, achingly inside.

Ren lets go of Hux's shoulder to bring a clenched fist to his mouth, bites down on his own fingers. Hux is — Ren has never — he's never —

Hux shushes him again, needlessly, as his fingers tangle in Ren's hair. He moves steadily inside Ren, his cock dragging against Ren's insides and making him tremble with the feel of it.

Slowly, Ren relaxes. Hux's thrusts become rhythmic, in time with the beat of Ren's heart. Dictating the beat of Ren's heart.

Everything narrows down to the feel of Hux's hand in Ren's hair, Hux's breath against Ren's chest, Hux's cock inside of him. Hux _inside_ of him. Ren's breath stutters.

"So good," Hux is saying, murmured endearments, the feel of his lips against Ren's overheated skin. 

Ren barely hears him: the room's gone dim, the world's gone dim. There is nothing but Hux thrusting inside of him, into him. Very faintly, he can feel tears leaking out from his squeezed-shut eyes, a damp track down his temples. Then Hux moves inside him again, and he feels nothing else.

It's almost a place, more than a sensation, Hux inside of him: a place that's warm and dark and pulsating, like meditation, like the Force.

In the darkness he can hear Hux make animal grunting noises. He can feel his own knees begin to shake. At the back of things, he can make out Hux saying his name over and over again, Ren Ren Ren, like a chant, like a benediction.

Hux's fingers wrap loosely around Ren's neck and it's a live wire. Ren can feel every delicate whorl of Hux's fingertips. He can feel the way his own back arches, the way his own dick throbs. He can feel himself clench around Hux. The way Hux's fingers tighten, ever so slightly, and then slacken again.

He feels himself grow faint, dizzy, and then he feels himself about to come. He takes the deepest breath he can.

There's a warm, wet pulse inside him and warm, wet tears on his cheeks.

 _Hux_ , he thinks; it was Hux about to come, it wasn't himself at all. His own dick is still hard, aching, leaking onto his stomach. His muscles ache, his legs, his fingers where they're joined into fists.

It hurts when Hux pulls out, almost more than when he'd first pushed in. Ren hears himself whimper, hears the almost-laugh sounds Hux makes as he shushes him. Feels Hux's fingers loosen from his throat and run through his hair again. Ren tilts his head back, tries breathing. He can still feel Hux's grip.

Hux says his name again. He nods in response, or tries to.

Hux eases himself down onto the bed next to Ren. He tucks his head to Ren's shoulder; one of his hands rests at the dip of Ren's hip, so close to his cock but not quite close enough.

Ren tries to say Hux's name, fails. He clears his throat. Tries again. 

"Hux," he says, and the world comes a little more into focus.

"Mm," Hux says. Ren never thought, never could have imagined, he'd see Hux like this: sated, tired, perhaps content.

Lazily, Hux's hand moves to wrap around the base of Ren's dick. Ren gasps. Hux makes the almost-laugh sound again, and his grip tightens. His hand moves slowly, so slowly, almost like an afterthought, and Ren turns his face toward Hux. Hux's hand leaves Ren's cock and comes up to brush the hair out of Ren's face, tuck it neatly behind his ear.

"You're crying," Hux says; his voice is a whisper but his tone is almost matter of fact.

"You —" Ren starts. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "You were — inside me. I felt you — I can still feel you."

"Are you with me now?" Hux asks, but before Ren can answer Hux kisses him. Ren's hands move to cling desperately to Hux's shoulders. Hux kisses him and kisses him, and Ren lets himself drown in it.

 

 

Captain Ordona drones on about ion cannons. Ren shifts in his seat. There's a resulting rise in the room's tension levels, and behind the mask, Ren stifles a laugh. Certainly by now they should have figured out that Ren is just _bored_ in these awful meetings, not any sort of threat.

At the head of the table, Hux softly clears his throat. Ordona pauses, startled, but when Hux makes no further move to interrupt, he continues.

Ren looks up, and has the reassuring sensation that even through his mask, Hux can meet his eyes. The faintest smile graces Hux's lips, and it's barely a second before it's gone. Still. Ren knows it was meant for him.

 _Be still_ , he can imagine Hux saying, and he stills.


End file.
